Empathica
by fyren galan
Summary: Written for 100-prompt challenge by HermioneWeasleyFan. Hogwarts-era Draco/Harry SLASH, Fifth through Seventh Year.
1. Introduction

**Empathica****: **100 chapters worth of drabble, from prompts created by HermioneWeasleyFan.

**WARNING: **rated M for language, possible sexual content in later chapters.

**I'm changing the goddamned summary again. Yes, I know. I'm sorry. **Harry/Draco slash, not nice treatment of Hermione in the beginning (will change later on), bashing of: GINNY, DUMBLEDORE, and possibly RON. Possible Severitus. I dunno. We'll see how much semblance of plot I can fit in drabbles. :]

Introduction

He wouldn't say they loved each other.

Yes, he supposed that sounded horrible, but it was true. Neither of them had ever experienced real love before, so how were they to proclaim flowery words to each other without knowing the meaning behind the speech?

He would go as far to say they were fond of each other.

Sometimes.

After all, how could anyone go from the fiercest enemies to true loves in the span of three years?

How could Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy do that?

He didn't know. But he suspected that he would find out.

oOo

A/N: In approximately 99 chapters!

The prompt is the title for each chapter. Snazzy, ne?

That and the fact that I'm too lazy to come up with chappie titles. :]


	2. Silence

Silence

It was the only thing Draco craved, because it was the one thing he didn't have.

There was never any quiet at his house; at least, not since the Dark Lord had commandeered Malfoy Manor. Death Eaters came in at all hours of the night. Shrieks and explosions were his constant companion. Even when there was no talking, Draco could hear the tension roaring about him, ready to pull him under. The lines on his mother's usually unmarred face screamed at him whenever he looked at her. His father's exaggerated limp shouted at him after every Dark Revel. Draco slept with one eye open and one hand on his wand.

At school, it was marginally better. Crabbe and Goyle kept most people away from him, but he couldn't exactly ask them to keep _themselves_ away from him. Blaise helped with Pansy; he claimed he only did it to improve his Stunners, but Draco was grateful nonetheless.

In the library, he could get peace and calm for a short interval, before a First Year would come in and ruin it. But that was alright; at least he had gotten some.

He never suspected that he would crave silence more hungrily than wealth or prestige.

Apparently, his priorities were different than Potter said they were.


	3. Break Away

Break Away

Harry felt claustrophobic in the midst of all that red and gold.

There was so much drunken laughter, so much raucous noise. He felt sick.

Normally, after a Quidditch game that he had won, he would be more than happy to toast his fellow housemates and drink eighteen or so Butterbeers with them. Tonight, for some reason, he felt that all the Butterbeer in the world was not enough to make him stay in this shrinking room with red-headed monkeys clinging onto his elbows at every turn.

He wrenched away from the one currently attached to him, and shoved people out of the way as he strode to the Portrait Hole.

Once outside, he leaned against cold stone and sighed in relief. Solitude, at last.

Or not. The Portrait Hole opened for a Second Year bent over by the amount of candy and Butterbeer he had hefted on his back. Warm light spilled out, and primary colors threatened to overwhelm Harry again. He fled to the outdoors, to the night, where nothing was red or gold naturally.

The lake was calm and peaceful, rippling from the middle where ten fathoms down the Giant Squid was having a wet dream. *

Harry laid against the rough bark behind him, and gazed at the twinkling stars. He thought guiltily of Dumbledore, and hastily looked back at the lake. Footsteps crunching on pebbles behind him made him tense. He swore, if it was Ginny trying to get in his pants one more time, he'd hex her so she could get into her own pants and leave his the fuck alone.

It wasn't Ginny, though. It was an angel of light, of hope, of beauty, who spoke words of comfort to Harry:

"Shove over, Potter. I have firewhiskey."

oOo

A/N: * It's a wet dream because the Giant Squid is under water. GET IT?! :] I'm such a nerd.

Oh, in case you didn't realize that these are all Draco and Harry stories, and they will only ever star Draco and Harry, Harry's 'angel' is Draco. :]

Thank you for the reviews!


	4. Blood

**WARNING: **self-mutilation, depression

Blood

Sometimes Harry didn't know what to do with himself, with his life. He was drifting, without a purpose and no real reason to care about anything. Sure, he had to kill Voldemort, but then what?

He would sometimes ask his friends what they expected for the future. They would stare at him blankly, and suggest that he kill He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Harry once asked Hermione and Ron what they thought would happen if he didn't kill Voldemort. What would happen if he just didn't feel like it?

Their jaws dropped, and they turned abruptly away from him. By dinnertime, they were talking to him cheerfully again. Harry suspected they forced the conversation out of their memories.

He knew they didn't really care about him. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, so he had to be taken care of, and have someone to watch his back. Once he defeated Voldemort (or didn't?), he doubted they would speak to each other ever again, except for the schmoozy newspaper articles they would do on the tenth anniversary of Voldemort's death.

Harry had nothing to live for, not even silence.

He dragged the knife carefully against the skin of his forearm, watching the droplets of red ooze out and congeal together.

He winced, and then smiled grimly.

The steel reminded him that he was still alive, and the scars etched across his arm reminded him that he could still feel.

Feelings were something to live for, he thought.

oOo

A/N: I don't condone cutting, kiddos. It's horrible and painful and, yes, it does make you feel alive.

But only for a little while. There are so many better ways of living.

And when your life gets better, it's a sharp memory of the past that you would like nothing more than to forget.

Yes, I used to cut myself. And now that I would like nothing better than to move on, every time I look at my forearm, I am reminded of my past, where I used a pin to carve the word 'BLOOD' into my arm until it scarred. Permanently.

This would be also a good time to talk about that making permanent decisions isn't the best thing to do when you're fourteen. Thinking about the future while making important decisions is a wise thing to do.

I'm done with my lecture now. I'll try to make the next one happier. Thank you for the reviews!


	5. Advertisement

Advertisement

Harry stared bemusedly at the sign in the Gryffindor Common Room. You would think that Fred and George, being legal adults, would have matured at least a modicum. But apparently not, judging by the screaming neon green poster.

Reading it again, a thought quickly ran through his mind. If only they were still enemies, Harry could've been a tad bit richer.

But it was alright. He needed the tentative friendship more than he needed a few Sickles. He moved away from the gaudy notice quickly; it wouldn't do for Hermione to find him there. She would immediately suspect him of involvement. Stupid Prefect. Shaking his head, he went out the Portrait Hole and went to find Malfoy.

Merely to warn him, of course. Harry didn't really want to talk to him. He just felt it was the right thing to do. Yes. That was it.

Whistling cheerfully to himself, he walked down the corridor.

Halfway to the Great Hall, he heard Hermione's screeching start. He winced, and sped up his pace unconsciously. Stupid Prefect.

oOo

_Fellow Gryffindors: Do you find yourself wishing for that sleek Firebolt or having to buy a Christmas present for your nagging girlfriend, but lacking the funds to achieve said enterprises? _

_Never fear! A small collaboration of ingenious inventors are looking for testers to try out their new and improved products! _

_Unfortunately, due to the complications of Gryffindor Prefects disparaging our usage of ickle Firsties, we are no longer allowed to use members of our own House as testers. _

_But don't worry! We've found a way around those nosy little snots (we love you, Hermione)! Just toddle down to your nearest dungeon, and grab yourself a Slytherin. With a friendly _Stunner _or _Petrificus Totalus_, you'll have a Snake who's completely willing to help you out! _

_Please bring your acquaintance to the Room of Requirement, where one of our fabulous associates will help assist you. _

_Guidelines: Please only attack Fifth through Seventh Year Slytherins. We're prankers, not bullies. _

_Payment will be exacted upon proof of Slytherin qualities. _

_The prices are as follows:_

_Ten Sickles for a Fifth Year,_

_Fifteen Sickles for a Sixth Year,_

_One Galleon for a Seventh Year, and_

_TWO GALLEONS if you manage to snag Malfoy. _

_(This offer has been made courteously by: F, G, and L.) _


	6. Trouble Lurking

Trouble Lurking

Harry ran frantically, his eyes searching desperately for a place to hide.

He ran down the hallway, and came to a dead end. Damn. This was what he got for not looking ahead of him. Hearing the monsters pound steadily closer, he prepared to Blast a hole through the stone, when he was yanked into the wall.

Grey eyes stared at him intensely, and a cool finger was pressed to his lips.

Harry inhaled sharply. Malfoy?

They both tensed when what sounded like a herd of obese elephants thundered down the hall, and came to a stop at the dead end.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione cried shrilly. "You can't avoid studying for your O.W.L.s forever! Just because you're the Boy-Who-Lived doesn't mean they'll pass you. You're not that special!"

Harry rolled his eyes, and Malfoy gazed at him amusedly.

Hermione sighed, and spoke, sounding cross. "I could've sworn I saw him scurry like a cowardly rat down this hallway."

Ron suggested, "Maybe he Apparated?"

A resounding _thwack_ was heard, and Hermione's squalling voice slowly began to diminish as they walked away. "You blithering idiot! How many times do I have to tell you that it states very clearly in _Hogwarts: A History _that no one can Apparate out of Hogwarts, no matter how ruddy powerful they are?"

Harry didn't relax until their squabbling died out. When it did, he breathed out heavily, and grinned at Malfoy. Who was, not surprisingly, smirking.

Harry said quietly, "Thank you."

Malfoy airily replied, "Don't think I did it for _you_. I merely knew her squawking would carry on a great deal longer if she found you, and I couldn't bear to hear it."

Harry snorted. "You're taking the piss."

Malfoy retorted, "Don't be ridiculous, Potter. I would never do something so plebian."

They stood there for a little while, just looking at each other. And then Malfoy went through the wall, with Harry following. Malfoy nodded, and started walking away. He called over his shoulder, "By the way, if you want better company than a pair of backstabbing mother hens, I'm usually in the library every night."

Harry waved at Malfoy's back, even though he knew Malfoy wouldn't see it.

Smiling, he began to walk back to the Common Room. This might be the first time he would go willingly to the library.

Only for the express purpose of studying, naturally. He did have his O.W.L.s coming up, after all.

oOo

A/N: The title can be taken two ways: 'Harry has trouble lurking' or 'There was trouble lurking for Harry.'


	7. Drive

Drive 

_Harry smiled at Ron. They were free, they were twelve years old, and they were doing something illegal; how much better could their lives get? _

_ Harry felt completely reassured by Ron's presence in the flying car. How could he not, when his best friend was at the wheel? Even though he was sure that Ron had never driven before, it didn't matter. Harry had complete faith in him; he wouldn't let anything hurt his mate. _

_ They were close enough to see Hogwarts glowing in the setting sun, making jokes about how they would waltz into the Great Hall in the middle of the Sorting and everyone would be impressed (except the Slytherins), when the car started to whine. _

_ Ron looked at him nervously, and patted the car's dashboard. "This old gel will get us there in one piece," he said quickly. "I'm sure of it." _

_ Harry leaned back and relaxed. Because if Ron said he was safe, then it must be true. _

_ As they flew over the castle walls, the noise grew steadily louder and louder, and the car began lurching strangely. And still Harry knew he would get in the castle without a scratch. Because Ron said so. _

_ The car swerved suddenly, and both Harry and Ron were jolted into the air. They landed back on their seat with a bump; Harry's glasses had been knocked askew. He fixed them, and peered out into the dusk. Something was waving angrily in front of them, and he looked more closely. _

_ "Ron!" he gasped. "We're going to fly into the Whomping Willow!" _

_ Harry looked frantically at Ron, who grinned back at him. And then suddenly morphed into an older version of himself. In a deep voice, he replied, "Sorry, mate. But I don't need to save you if you're not going to kill You-Know-Who. Have a nice life, what's left of it!" _

_ Ron jumped out of the car, and disappeared into the inky blackness. Harry cried out Ron's name, and cowered in terror into his seat. The car flew straight towards the Whomping Willow, and one furiously flailing branch cracked the car's windshield and-_

oOo

Harry woke up in a panic, still shouting Ron's name. He looked around wildly before noticing he was safe in his bed. Slumping back into his pillows, he thanked Merlin for Silencing Charms. Otherwise Ron would've yelled at him for interrupting his precious beauty sleep.

Harry sighed. When had their friendship become this strained… obligation? When had Ron only started caring about Harry killing Voldemort? It probably happened in Fourth Year, after Ron had apologized for not believing he didn't put his name in the Cup. Harry had, of course, forgiven him, but how could he forget how easily his best friend of four years had betrayed him?

Mind broiling, Harry turned over and shut his eyes, trying to squeeze out the memories.

But not succeeding.


	8. Questioning

Questioning

"Salazar," Harry whispered.

Ron turned around, his beet red face looming in Harry's vision. "Did you just use a _Slytherin_ curse?!" he bellowed.

Harry stared back defiantly. "Yes, Ronald. I did. And it wasn't a curse; it was in reverence, you prat. I reckon I'm allowed to use it, seeing as he gave me the gift of Parseltongue and all."

Ron face shifted from red to an ashen white. He looked around anxiously, and muttered, "Can we not talk about… _that_ in a public place?"

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, counted backwards from ten, and breathed in deeply. Then he smiled and said, "Sure, Ron. Whatever you say."

Harry brushed past Ron and started walking to Potions, continuously hissing under his breath.

If Ron had thought that Salazar was offensive, he would've probably fainted if he could understand Parseltongue. Some of the insults even made _Harry_ blush.


	9. Puzzle

Puzzle

Harry walked tiredly down to the Common Room. He couldn't sleep; he had gotten another nightmare about Voldemort torturing his mum again. Apparently, his screaming had overpowered his Silencing Charms, or so he was told by an irate Ron. _Some of us have more important things to do than listen to your whining. _Harry mused that this could describe their entire relationship. It was rather sad.

He stumbled towards one of the couches right in front of the fire, ready to collapse on one and spend the rest of the night there. And then he halted abruptly. There, prone in front of the roaring blaze, lay Hermione. Her back shook violently, and Harry heard small hiccupping noises emanating from her.

He sighed, not wanting to deal with one of his so-called friends at this time. Although Hermione's subtle rejections of him had hurt worse than Ron's, or Ginny's. Harry knew they were genuinely friends when they had gotten off the Express at the end of their Fourth Year. He could still feel her fierce hug and cheerful smile in his bones. But when he got back on the train, ready to face his Fifth Year, nothing was the same. Her smile had grown more condescending, her conversations with him now only revolved around the subjects of the O.W.L.s and Harry killing You-Know-Who.

Harry couldn't explain it; all he knew was that he had lost his best friend. Oh, well. At least Hermione hadn't shown this side of her last year. He wouldn't have been able to handle it if Hermione and Ron had betrayed his trust at the same time.

He suspected that something had happened at that place which he hadn't been allowed to go to. Too dangerous, he remembered bitterly. Sure, Harry Potter gets attacked by Dementors within one street of his own house, fights them off with some weird burst of wandless magic, but isn't permitted to visit his godfather and his friends. That's much too dangerous.

All Harry could think about was when he had gotten on the train. How he had seen her bushy hair through the compartment door, and had tripped on someone's luggage in his haste to see her. How he had hugged from behind, and she had frozen, then pushed him off. He thought he had squeezed her too hard, but her frosty eyes discouraged him of that theory. _Harry. You almost scratched my Prefect's Badge. Be more careful, will you? _

He was more careful now. He hadn't touched her since that day. But now, with her weeping form laid out on the floor, he couldn't help but rest a hand on her shoulder, and ask gently, "Hermione? Are you all right?"

She sat up abruptly, and wrenched around to look at him. Her tear-stained, puffy face shocked him. What shocked him even more was the way she threw herself into his arms, sobbing so hysterically he couldn't understand what she was trying to tell him.

"Harry!" she blubbered. "So…sorry…didn't realize…I was so-"

He hushed her, gently rubbing her back until her shudders reduced to tremors. He put aside the growing resentment that was sowing seeds in his soul. He had to. That was what friends did.

About ten minutes later, she had stopped crying enough to be coherent. She grasped his chin when he tried to gaze at the flames, and said quietly. "No, you need to look at me. I am so sorry for this. It's partially my fault, but I need you to understand why I've been acting this way since September. Please, just listen. That's all I'm asking you to do."

He looked into her sincere, watery eyes, and found himself nodding. What else could he do? He still thought of her as his best friend.

She sighed, let go of his face, and grabbed his hand. They settled onto the rug for what appeared to be a long tale.

She began.

oOo

_ In the middle of July, I was invited to a place for the rest of the summer. I can't tell you where it is or what it is, for I am not the Secret Keeper. But I can tell you that it is the headquarters for a resistance group against You-Know-Who. Sirius, all the Weasleys, and the members of this organization were there when I arrived. I was happy to see them all, but I wondered where you were. They told me You-Know-Who was watching your activity very closely, and it would mean an attempt on your life if you were tried to be moved from the Dursleys. _

_ I was upset, naturally, but tried to send you letters that were encouraging. I couldn't tell you anything, but I wrote anyway. I sent you a cake for your birthday, and a wish that we would be together soon. _

_ Around the middle of August, I received my Hogwarts letter. I was excited, as I hoped this meant I would see you in Diagon Alley while getting supplies. I was rather upset to learn that Mrs. Weasley was going to get all of our supplies, and that yours would just be owled to you. _

_ And then, I received another letter from Professor McGonagall. I didn't pay much attention to the contents, seeing as my hopes of seeing you soon had just been dashed. _

_ A cool, golden-coloured badge fell out of the envelope with the letter I didn't read. And suddenly, everything was different. My worries and thoughts about you faded away, and all that was left was this weight in my hand. It was a Prefect's Badge. And it was all that occupied my mind until I met you on the train that day. _

_ You hugged me from behind while I was polishing my badge. I pushed you off, so concerned that you might've scratched it. I saw the hurt in your eyes, but there was something that made me not care, and go back to polishing the little square of metal. _

_ I noticed my conversations with you were becoming stranger, and yet, it didn't matter to me. As a Prefect, I should be concerned about your grades more than your personal feelings. I noticed you growing more distant from me, and I thought that was a good thing. Friends just distracted you from your studies, after all. _

_ But at night, I would feel differently. I would think over the events of the day, and realize that I must just be imagining the cruel way I was treating you. I was your best friend. I would never do things like that to you. And I would resolve to talk to you in the morning, and set things right. _

_ I would wake up in the morning, and put the Prefect Badge on, and all my musings of the previous night would immediately seem stupid. I didn't need to talk to you; I could spend my time better patrolling corridors. Who needed friends, anyway? _

_ It all came to a head about four days ago. I had just stepped out of the shower when I heard Lavender and Parvati talking about me. It's so odd, they said. Hermione turns into a completely different person when she doesn't have her stupid badge on. She's so nice without it, but once she puts it on, she turns into such a bitch. Dumbledore never should've made her a Prefect. _

_ And then it hit me. I was a completely different person without the badge. Too different. There was something wrong with my badge. I ran from the shower, and grabbed it. Tapping it with my wand, I whispered, "Revelio." And a blackish purple color swashed over it. It reeked of Dark Magic. _

_ I skipped class the next day, and spent all my time in the library, looking up spells. I didn't eat or sleep for the next two days. I looked through hundreds of books, and couldn't find any mention of spells influencing people's behavior to the degree that I had experienced. _

_ I knew for a fact that someone had been controlling me through the badge. As a test, I hadn't worn it for two days, and I felt so clear headed. I longed to go to you and beg your forgiveness, but I knew you wouldn't believe me without proof. _

_ So I convinced Madame Pince to let me into the Restricted Section. I told her it was for an independent study I was doing with Professor Flitwick. She believed me, of course. Why would I be lying? _

_ I looked for any books that looked helpful. In the far back, I found a dusty copy of _Variations on Imperio_. Flipping through it, I found immediately what I was looking for. _

_ The Imperia Charm. Only one vowel away from the Unforgivable, it gave semi-control over the victim to the caster. By casting the charm on an object that the victim would use daily, they could regularly reinforce whatever ideals they wanted their victims to have. It would leave behind a dark purple hue if correctly revealed. _

_ So there you have it. Someone put an Imperia on my badge, and forced me to be cruel to you. I know that I should have fought it; I should have been stronger for you, Harry. But I couldn't be. I'm so sorry. _

oOo

She started crying again. Harry held her again, and whispered firmly into her ear, "Don't you _dare_ blame yourself for this. You could've never suspected that someone would do this to you. I don't forgive you, for there's nothing to forgive. This is not your fault. Always remember that."

She pulled back with a sniffle, and tried to give him a smile reminiscent of her Fourth Year goodbye. He smiled back. He thought he had started to cry, too. It didn't matter. He had his best friend back.

And so the two held each other until long after the rosy fingers of dawn crept through the windows.

oOo

A/N: Err… not exactly a drabble. :] I think you'll forgive me, though.

I changed the summary. I just couldn't be mean to that many people. I'm sorry. I love Hermione too much. But rest assured, I will make up in bitchiness to Ginny!


	10. Hold My Hand

Hold My Hand 

Harry waited for Hermione to walk down from her dormitories. She smiled brightly when she saw him at the bottom of the staircase. He grinned back, noticing her conspicuous lack of a Prefect's Badge.

When she walked off the last step, he asked lowly, "What? No badge? Didn't feel like getting your life controlled today?"

She scowled. "Shut it, you."

Harry smirked. "Oh, I'm wounded, now I am. Just revert back to your old ways, don't you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione blushed, and dramatically pushed past him to go out the Portrait Hole. Harry ran to apprehend her, and caught her hand.

"I'm really glad we're friends again," he whispered softly.

She made no outward acknowledgement of his statement, but gently squeezed his hand.

And holding hands, they walked to the Great Hall.


	11. Smile

Smile

Draco had been watching Potter since the beginning of term.

He noticed how the boy had gone from defeated to positively depressed. His lackeys were treating him surprisingly coldly, and he had withdrawn into himself. He now sat with Longbottom when paired up at Potions, and as a result, went to the hospital far more often than any Dark Lord could ever hope to send him there.

Draco pitied him. Perhaps last year he would not have, but ever since the Dark Lord had taken residence in his home, he felt a sort of sympathy with Potter. They both tried to avoid everyone who wanted to speak with them, they were both being tortured by a Dark Lord, and they both were living a lie. Potter was pretending to still be the same person he was before Diggory died. Draco was still pretending like he thought he would survive the year.

So when Potter walked in to a Potions class in late October hand in hand with Granger, Draco felt happy for him. He would have deserved to have a friend if his life was as bad as Draco's, and Draco knew Potter's life was probably twice as worse as his own.

Watching Potter laugh, his eyes crinkling for the first time since last year, well, that made Draco happy too.

He smiled.

Lavender Brown fell off her chair in shock. Severus took off twenty points from Gryffindor for imbecile-like conduct. Although Draco did notice Severus didn't take any points off for Potter laughing in class. Perhaps he felt that Potter deserved a little bit of laughter, Draco mused. Perhaps they all did.

As Draco walked out of class, he heard the Brown bint emphatically telling one of the Patil twins that Draco Malfoy was a Veela and he had just smiled at her, therefore she was now his mate. Draco tilted back his head and practically _howled. _Perhaps everyone did deserve a bit of laughter after all.

oOo

Harry glanced back at the sound of rich, deep laughter. He gulped. Malfoy had a nice, smooth, white throat that was shown off nicely when he laughed. A very nice throat. Very nice indeed.

Hermione pinched his arm and looked mischievously at him. Harry shook his head, and determinedly walked faster. He didn't look back again, even though the echoes of Malfoy's amusement still bounced off the walls.

oOo

A/N: High time for a Draco POV! Sorry if the Veela thing offended any diehard Draco!Veela fans. I honestly love Veelas, I do.

If you want a really great Veela story (but not Draco, sorry), go check out Swan Song: A Veela Love Story by excentrykemuse. 'Tis quite loverly. :]


End file.
